Traveling to Russia

I walked down three mossy stone steps through a large steel door with some trepidation and entered what appeared to be a cave; low ceilings, dim lighting and stonewalls. But when I saw a large table littered with coffee cups and Big Books and smiling faces seated around, I knew I was home. I was in a room of fellow members of Alcoholics Anonymous in St Petersburg, Russia. Even though I was thousands of miles from my hometown of Sebastopol, Calif. everything except the décor was the same.